Lucid Dreaming Is Worthless and Stupid

For the uninitiated, a lucid dream is a more intense, palpable form of your garden variety nightly shroom trip in which the dreamer becomes an active, omnipotent participant by virtue of the fact that they are conscious that what they are experiencing is in fact a dream.

Sounds pretty neat, right? After all, who wouldn't like to remove all of life’s irksome little impediments that make the waking world a living hell - things like federal, state and local laws, the physical laws that govern the universe, and the genetically conferred revulsion beautiful women have towards having sex with unattractive, antisocial men for free at the drop of hat? I know I would, so after doing a little internet research and even going down to the library to check out a book on the subject, I decided to give it a shot and document my experiences in classic self indulgent, as if somebody actually gives a shit blog format. Naturally however, (SPOILER ALERT!!!) in keeping with everything else in life, it was a huge disappointment.

Day 1: In accordance with the guidelines set forth by the literature I’d read on lucid dreaming, I “Focused my intent” to dream lucidly by telling myself repeatedly, in mantra style, that when I fell asleep and began to dream that I’d know I was dreaming, envisioned myself becoming lucid, resolved to remember to look for dreamsigns (things in dreams that plainly demonstrate that you’re dreaming), and imagined myself doing what I wanted to do in my dream. Only instead of experiencing the sheer bliss of banging the crap out of Jessica Alba, I dreamt that a large, poisonous spider had made a nest up my ass and was having babies.

Day 2: Undeterred, I tried again, redoubling my intent focusing and envisioning efforts - this time picturing myself strangling my mother-in-law and throwing a party before I fell asleep only to dream instead of shitting a bunch of demonic golden retriever eggs that hatched and crawled out of the toilet to devour my penis with their sharp little puppy teeth before I could flush them down to hell.

Day 3: I fell asleep drunk on the couch this night and dreamt of god-knows-what.

Day 4: See Day 3 (It was the weekend).

Day 5: Deciding to try for something a bit more conventional, I envisioned myself having the ability to fly, up high like an eagle, over the mountains and streams and all that crap. Then I fell asleep and dreamt of sitting on a bench waiting on a bus for seven hours.

Day 6: Tried the Jessica Alba thing again. Dreamt I was in the Vietnam War on a search and rescue mission to spring Tom Selleck from an NVA prison when I looked down and realized I wasn’t wearing any pants.

Day 7: Dreamt of becoming desperate to commit suicide after my immune system failed and grass and weeds started growing all over my body. (Not what I had in mind)

Day 8: Envisioned hitting the championship winning home run in the World Series. Dreamt that I could speak French, only to realize it was all a bunch of gibberish about 2 seconds after waking up.

Day 9: Dreamt of having to go back to high school after it turned out that I hadn’t actually fulfilled all the requirements to graduate, but kept forgetting to go to 6th period math class. (Whatever)

Day 10: See Day 4.

Day 11: See Day 10.

Day 12: Pictured a cocaine-fueled orgy populated by me and a dozen hot lingerie models. Dreamt of being beaten to a pulp by gang bangers after farting in a movie theater.

Day 13: Dreamt of being trapped in a Civil War era submarine after I fell asleep on the toilet and my son started pounding on the bathroom door.

Day 14: Decided the so-called “art of lucid dreaming” is total bullshit perpetuated by boring new age types who subconsciously invent special powers for themselves as a coping mechanism to preempt the stupefying inanity of their otherwise bleak, pointless lives.